


Tally

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-07
Updated: 2004-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie remembered waiting for an appointment, a dentist or doctor or something, and reading an article on “situational homosexuality”.  What had drawn him in were Alyssa Milano’s almost bare tits.  He did read the article.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tally

_l_

Charlie remembered waiting for an appointment, a dentist or doctor or something, and reading an article on “situational homosexuality”. What had drawn him in were Alyssa Milano’s almost bare tits. He did read the article.

After tearing out the centerfold.

_ll_

Jack had a patient named “Alyssa” once. He was a short squat man with gender diasphora. He would- _she_ would only respond to Alyssa. Jack’s charge nurse once asked Alyssa why _she_ had to be called that.

“Because I’m the fuckin’ boss.”

_lll_

It doesn’t feel situational when Jack’s breathing hot and heavy against his ear. It is a situation. This whole fucked up place, this Event, is. Event, capital E, red lettered. The press of Jack’s nails into his sides, cutting into ribs, the grit of sand against his eyelids as he counted out the beats of Jack’s grunts. It almost sounded like a diminished chord.

 _llll_

The first time Jack heard about fellatio, he was receiving it. Angela from Latin class on her knees, their Latin notes spread out behind her on the floor like a papery crumpled train to her dress. Jack remembered thinking that Angela’s mouth was wet and that he wished that she wasn’t smearing the ink on his homework. He forgot that as soon as she swallowed and he came. He closed his eyes and expected to see black but he got a smeary white instead.

_~~llll~~ _

_The art of good fellatio_ , Charlie had read on a bathroom wall once, _is just to get some._ He had been four pints over his limit and he had agreed heartily. He would have pumped a fist in the air, but the one that wasn’t holding his dick to piss was resting on the wall so he wouldn’t fall in the urinal. He remembered stumbling backstage to report this new addition to the betterment of society when his then girlfriend was demonstrating some humanitarian acts on some other bloke.

He can’t remember her name but he can remember the smell of piss and beer.

 _ ~~llll~~ l_

There was an art to the way Charlie arched against the cooling sand. His voice strained and pleading, but still accented. Words coloured with extra vowel sounds and cadences that had, at moments, Jack pause at the meaning. Broken and bitten off curses and praises slipped through, out, and over Charlie’s lips. Jack closed his eyes and felt, the pulse, the markers of life, against his tongue. He kissed Charlie right after, mouth wet with those markers, saltbitter and heat.

Life.

 _ ~~llll~~ ll_

_“Relationships based on extreme circumstances…”_ Charlie had wrinkled his nose at that statement. He cursed Angela (Angelene?) for dragging out the tape and making him watch it. Trite, violent and over processed. A vehicle for Keanu to gain his mark as a “real” actor, a vehicle about a vehicle. Charlie had penned lyrics about the fact that relationships based on circumstances, extreme or otherwise, never lasted. Because if that was what you had categorized what began a relationship, it was doomed to fail before the words were uttered. No matter how pretty Sandra’s smile was.

 _ ~~llll~~ lll_

Speed, meth, eight balls, and every other type of drug case came rolling through the ER doors. It wasn’t that Jack was surprised to hear the girl offer him anything he wanted if he would just slip her something, anything. She had preferred vicodan or percocet or morphine. She had smiled. Her teeth broken and black in a few places when she talked, smiled, begged Jack for something. _Anything, I’ll do anything you want._ Her smile had widened when Jack had paused. He shook his head, his rotation ending in fifteen. If it had been a different girl, a different night, or he was a different kind of man…

Circumstance was funny that way.

 _ ~~llll~~ llll_

It was a disaster movie. Or that was what Angela (Angelene?) had told him. Had whispered in his ear before her fingers had slipped into his trousers, and wrapped around his cock with a calculated squeeze. Charlie can’t remember anymore if it was. This wasn’t a relationship. This was a circumstance. The frantic and frenzied way their hands would rip and tear away at weakened seams. There was no gentleness no slow loving in the way that they pushed and pulled and clawed at each other. Into each other. 

Circumstance is funny that way.

 _ ~~llll~~ ~~llll~~_

_“Ashes, ashes we all fall down…”_ He never did understand that stupid song.

_~~llll~~ ~~llll~~ l_

Posies were used to put in the pockets of those who died in the plague. The Plague, capital P, red lettered. The event hammered into his skull for years of schooling. History was important. It was integral to the foundation of basic human understanding. Knowing where one started as a society.

He can’t remember if that was the point when he started smoking plants rather than admiring them.

_~~llll~~ ~~llll~~ ll_

He always wanted a cigarette after fucking. It didn’t matter that he knew it was bad for him. He’d done things in his life that were bad for him, but he always thought that the act of sex was, in essence, something good. To balance out the karmic scales, one should do something negative to even the universal weight.

He had said that out loud once after they had both collapsed against each other. Both too heavy and too drained to do more than roll away so that they were still touching, but not on each other. There had been a laugh.

He can’t remember if it was his own voice or not.

_~~llll~~ ~~llll~~ lll_

Growing up, he had hated his lessons. The old woman’s voice berated, cutting him as sharp as the thwack of the ruler against the back of his knuckles. The measured beats of the metronome clicked, each one mocking his obvious failure. _Click, click, click, click, click._ You, are, a, fail, ure. He got the music right just to spite the old bitch and that fucking metronome.

After his last recital, he smashed the little box with the metal arm. 

_~~llll~~ ~~llll~~ llll_

C is the centre. The middle of the piano. There was an old stand up piano in his grandmother’s house. It smelled of pine and oil and dust. He loved stroking the cracked and yellowed keys and making the tinny sounds come out of it. He wondered, as a child, if it weren’t some kind of magic in the way that the music would come out of it. The right fingers in the right places at the right time would make it good. The right circumstances and situations coming together to form something-

Something that made sense.

_~~llll~~ ~~llll~~ ~~llll~~_

There wasn’t any music now. The birds’ songs were more like screeching reminders of the Event, this situation that they were in. Madness comes before the fall. Was this madness? This circumstance that he was in. They were in?

This wasn’t making love or a relationship. Fuck, it was just fucking. Reaffirming of life. It wasn’t that he waited to taste the salt off skin browned by the sun. Didn’t spend that time wondering if the salt was from the sea or just from sweat. Didn’t wait for this. 

He counted out the minutes, hours, days of survival. Of living.

Even when he knew that to the rest of the world they were dead. All of them. Ghosts that breathed and touched and fucked.

There was no love in fucking. That was a mantra. A rule to keep. 

For some reason, he can hear Alyssa laughing at him.

 

fin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:i have lost my goddamn mind. Really. don't own 'em and if jj wants to sue me, get in line with the student loan and credit card company man.
> 
> Written a long long time ago, so many years ago, all mistakes and typos are mine.


End file.
